


For all Ironic Purposes

by ZeeCatfish



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeeCatfish/pseuds/ZeeCatfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard growing up living in the same house as the man he definitely had a homo-crush on and being seen as nothing more than a little brother. It was hard, and nobody understood. Even so, Dave was almost certain those eyes lingering on his Superman briefs-clad ass a bit longer than they should were not just a figment of his imagination his brain projected on the current situation out of longing, or whatever Lalonde would be telling him right about now if he had been on pesterchum.</p><p>Fuck psychoanalysing flighty broads and their theories on brother-complexes and how they aren't healthy. This was definitely a good thing, and it needed to be exploited. Even if this intriguing choice in fetish made his brother just a little bit less cool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For all Ironic Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the kink meme.

The first time he did it it was for ironic purposes. Or so he told Bro, because telling the person he looked up to the most that the actual reason he was walking around wearing John's stupid, childish clothes was because he lost to Egderp in a drinking competition while he stayed over for a week was so incredibly not cool. Never mind that he was fifteen and not even the laid-back Bro Strider was cool with the idea of having kids snoop around in his liquor cabinet.

Interestingly enough waddling around in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, (where did John even /get/ that shit?) did what being ironic and cool and adult and all those other impressive things Dave tried so very hard at never quite managed: make Bro stare at him.

It was hard growing up living in the same house as the man he definitely had a homo-crush on and being seen as nothing more than a little brother. It was hard, and nobody understood. Even so, Dave was almost certain those eyes lingering on his Superman briefs-clad ass a bit longer than they should were not just a figment of his imagination his brain projected on the current situation out of longing, or whatever Lalonde would be telling him right about now if he had been on pesterchum.

Fuck psychoanalysing flighty broads and their theories on brother-complexes and how they aren't healthy. This was definitely a good thing, and it needed to be exploited. Even if this intriguing choice in fetish made his brother just a little bit less cool.

So the next time he ditched the coolkid persona to wear a lame silly-printed shirt and kid-department underwear it had nothing to do with alcohol or insane friends, though if anyone were to actively ask he'd still plead irony because having shit like this hurt his reputation on the long run was not awesome at all. Bro doesn't ask though. He just stands in the doorway with his eyebrows raised a tiny bit and Dave congratulates himself because it's not every day he manages to get the best of Bro Strider.

The third time he forewent the cartoon-theme and stole one of Bro's shirts. Bro came back home late that evening, and being weary and at least somewhat drunk from whatever gig he'd been at lowered his stoic facade enough for Dave to get definite confirmation that walking around their apartment in Bro's too large shirt and ironic, heart-print boxers had an effect on his older brother. The retreat into the bathroom to not so subtly jack off kind of effect.

From that point onwards Dave made it a point to wear something stupidly childish only on the weekend. Overexposure might help his brother build up immunity, he reasoned with himself, and Bro tended to be drunk throughout most of saturday and almost all of sunday and while his brother wasn't an all out slurring, unable to walk straight drunk, he was easier to catch of guard.

Rose religiously told him he was being an idiot and that this would never work every friday. Jade never was too big on 'normal' social values and whatnots and just wished him luck. John, being the hopelessly romantic derp he was had actually decided he'd help him, because apparently forbidden love was the best kind and somehow Dave just couldn't bring himself to be surprised.

So when he received a blue-wrapped package over mail on his sixteenth birthday, he knew right away that whatever was in there was probably something that should supposedly help him get into his brother's pants.

He really didn't want to know how John knew his measurements well enough to make him pink, bunny themed footie pyjamas though. While he wasn't sure if he could pass wearing something like that off as ironic should his brother decide to ask and there was something really embarrassing about the idea of walking around in those things, in between John putting so much effort into making it for him -wasting so much time on lame shit like this, not cool dude…- and his own curiosity about how Bro would react there was just no way he could not start scheming.

That saturday night he piled a heap of his own blankets and pillows on his Bro's futon and nestled himself into it with an old stuffed dog he'd found in the back of his closet (the only stuffed anything he could find that wasn't defined by plush puppet rump and suggestively phallic shapes noses, because that would just not fit the image he was trying to project here) and a cup of hot milk the moment Bro texted him he'd be home in a few minutes. He made sure the stupid movie he'd gotten per John's advice was on the supposedly intense part and tried to look like he was actually interested in what was on the screen.

There were shuffling noises outside of the doorway and he could hear the telltale clinking of keys turning in the lock before his brother stumbled inside looking a little more sober than Dave had hoped for, but at least he didn't look like he'd been having toilet-stall sex with strangers in the club he'd been DJ-ing at that night.

He was very glad he hadn't taken off his shades like John told him he should because at least this way he actually got to see his brother freeze upon seeing him without giving away that he was watching.

"Dave," Bro said, voice betraying nothing. "Finish your lame movie tomorrow kid. I need my bed back." If he hadn't been watching the older Strider for reactions so closely over the past few weeks Dave might have been fooled into thinking he wasn't affected. Of course, the lack of strifes over the past few weekends already sort of betrayed the effect his actions were having on Bro anyways, but that was just a nice bonus on the side.

Dave made a show out of yawning and stretching, giving off a glimpse of what he was wearing before retreating back into his warm, fluffy cocoon of blanket and putting on his most childish voice all the while firmly telling himself he was doing this for a good cause. "But Bro, I don't wanna go to bed yet."

His whine was stupidly exaggerated and Dave was almost sure Bro would catch his bluff and kick him off the futon but the older Strider just stood and stared, almost unnerving in his lack of movement until there was the slight bob of his adam's apple when he swallowed.

"What the fuck are you drinking anyways, dude?" Bro asked gruffly as he plopped down next to the mountain of blanket, looking annoyingly unruffled and making Dave even more determined to get a rise out of him.

"Milk. Want some?" he held out the ironic moe anime mug while trying to pretend he was still watching the movie without alerting Bro that he had absolutely no eye for bad cinema when there was hot Strider ass to be ogled right next to him.

There was a pause while Bro gave the mug an unimpressed look before he turned back to Dave, one eyebrow raised in silent demand for an explanation because this was just not something that happened in the Strider household.

Of course, Dave couldn't answer him because he couldn't see his brother's raised eyebrow. He was very busily watching his very lame movie after all. Which seemed to be the love-child resulting from an illicit affair between an action thriller and a parody of Lord of the Rings with some of John's actor crushes sprinkled over it. He shouldn't have expected any different from something recommended to him by the king of derp himself.

The mug of milk was plucked out of his hands and placed on the floor and then Bro turned off the tv. "I know you kid, there is no way you're watching that crap, not even ironically. What's really up?"

Of course it was stupid to have assumed this would affect his bro enough for him not to realise how out of character he was acting. If this were anyone else Dave would start to spout bullshit to throw them off of the right track but this was Bro, and Bro was the king of spouting and recognising spouted bullshit. If he was completely honest with himself he was at loss for what to say because there was nothing he could think of that wouldn't make Bro suspicious and he was pretty sure the moment the older Strider caught wind of what was really going down here it was gonna be game over.

"This aint about some chick is it? Because this is the absolutely lamest way to go about moping if it is." And that was both so close and far of the mark at the same time that Dave couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows. That assumption almost deserved a prize or something.

Instead of answering, he decided to just forego the entire bunch of well thought out cutesy conversations he and John had meticulously weaved together and skip to the physical parts by crawling into his brother's lap, dragging his uncomfortably warm cocoon with him. "'m not moping," he said while making himself comfortable cuddled against Bro's chest. "It's just, I dunno, I was bored I guess…"

Several minutes pass with neither of them moving or talking and any courage Dave might or might not have had was slowly slinking away, probably never to be seen again. Because he might just have screwed up big time, what with Bro's general dislike of physical contact unless it involved swords or puppets.

Then Bro cursed under his breath and suddenly his hand was in Dave's hair pulling him up so his face was level with Bro's. There were a few moments of quiet as the two men looked at each other and then Bro was kissing him and their shades were clinking together awkwardly and everything was awesome.

Dave moved around as subtle as one could shift around while on someone's lap so he was straddling his brother instead of just sprawled all over his lap and he was only too glad to feel exactly how much of a rise he was getting out of his brother.

Wearing footie pyjamas, watching shitty movies and acting like a dork where his brother could see it wasn't exactly an ideal situation for Dave to get it up but he supposed that since Bro got off on making puppet porn getting it up for adolescents acting like brats wasn't that bizarre, even if it did make him feel a bit silly for trying so hard to impress Bro by trying -and naturally succeeding, because he was amazing like that- to act cool and adult and shit.

Feeling Bro's cock standing to attention inside his jeans did do something for Dave though. Feeling that warm, big hand on the back of his head and Bro's tongue roving his mouth as if it were an oasis after a long travel through a lame camel-and-cacti infested desert only helped to speed up the process and soon there was no way Bro would not have noticed the effect he was having on Dave.

Still, humping Bro's leg couldn't hurt, Dave figured.

It didn't. In fact, it felt quite good. Good enough for Dave to put on a little show involving him, humping his brother's leg while Bro looked at him from behind his shades while his face slowly turned the colour of a ripe tomato. John had said something about acting natural, trying not to force stuff or some crap like that but Dave enjoyed the look on Bro's face when he faked his best porn-moan.

It was sort of hilarious in a way how easy it was to string Bro along with just a little bit of incredibly poorly done acting. Later, when Bro wasn't practically mauling his mouth while grinding their hips together, Dave would pat himself on the back for being such a sassy, seductive little sex-kitten. Because really, if seducing THE Bro Strider wasn't cool there was no justice in the world. No, the universe.

Bro pushed him on his back and pulled away, muttering a quick apology and a 'hold on for a bit' at Dave's exaggerated whine as he folded out the futon. The squeak Dave let out when the bed beneath him moved wasn't actually forged, but at least it made Bro turn his attentions back to him.

And then Bro was back on top of him and both of their shades were gone. They stared at each other like a pair of deer caught in each other's headlights and Dave was tempted to make a crack about how they were like that catbus with the headlight eyes from that anime film they'd watched a long time ago but then with deer and there were two of them. He didn't, but only because he was scared Bro would realise what he was doing and pull back if he stopped acting like a kid.

So instead he made a stupid mewling noise and hooked his legs around Bro's waist.

That broke whatever catbus-deer-trance whatchamacallit they had been caught in and in a flash -typical, of course he just had to drag his strife-speed into the bedroom as well- Bro had mashed their mouths back together. Only this time those large, hot hands didn't stay chaste and Dave was most definitely not complaining.

If contemplating what Rose would be telling him if she knew the current situation wasn't one of those things one just doesn't do when one is being felt up by their brother and long-term crush he'd probably be imagining her saying something about how the only reason he was doing this at all was because it was taboo and the human mind was attracted to the forbidden or some crap like that. Instead, he simply decided that having Bro's hands on his ass was awesome.

Of course having those hands run down his back, his ass, his thighs, his stomach was awesome. They were Bro's after all, and he'd been wanting this for longer than he bothered to count -though John might be able to tell him with startling precision, and he really didn't want to think about that right now- but Dave was sixteen. This, of course, came with a train-wreck of hormones that didn't understand the meaning of the word slow if it hit them on the head with a pogo-stick.

Of course Bro was much more experienced with fucking and stupid concepts like taking it slow so he should probably just let Bro take the lead like he seemed to be content doing so far. In fact, considering he was supposed to be acting the part of a cute kid, he most definitely should be letting his brother take the lead. Sadly, as mentioned before, Dave was sixteen. And since his sixteen-years-old-boy hormones were telling him to screw going slow, he did the next best thing.

He grabbed Bro's crotch.

For the first time in as long as he could remember Dave was really hoping there were some cameras hidden around the place at that moment because the undignified squeak Bro let out at that was glorious. As was the fact that he actually jumped, got pulled back down by Dave's legs and fell off of the bed.

Any remnant of a poker-face Dave might have had left was promptly discarded and Dave didn't even care how uncool full out laughing in Bro's face was because this entire situation had just turned from amazing to something that should be hailed in poems and raps alike for at least the next few centuries or so.

Bro growled from where he was sprawled over the floor and Dave's laughter subsided ever so slightly as their eyes met. There was an instance where he was almost certain the older Strider would leave in an angry huff, and he swallowed a few lingering chuckles, getting ready to apologise. Then Bro pounced.

Last time he'd found himself on his back with Bro pinning him to the futon he'd at least gotten the time to take in what the hell was happening. Apparently, however, Bro's version of 'not taking it slow' involved undoing the buttons on those stupid pyjama's front, ravaging Dave's neck with his mouth and palming his little brother's crotch all at the same time while keeping the younger Strider pinned with his knees.

Now Dave was the one making embarrassing noises -and not even on purpose, though he might have exaggerated a few because that made Bro make those funny sounds and he liked that a lot more than was logical- and he found that he didn't mind at all because fuck it, if Bro really had cameras all over the place like he usually did that just meant they'd have the hottest thing in human history to watch later.

Then the last of the bunny-shaped buttons was undone and Bro was impatiently shoving the fabric down Dave's shoulders, nipping and biting down his skin making Dave burst out into peals of laughter every time he got to a ticklish spot and damn that should be a mood-killer of apocalyptic proportions. Bro clearly didn't agree, if that nice, unwavering tent in his pants was anything to go by.

Dave humoured Bro for a moment, letting him ghost his fingers over his stomach and bite his chest before returning the focus to getting off, because he was still a horny sixteen-years-old and learning all the joys of sex beyond plug A+slot B=goal could wait for later, when he was older. Or at the very least a sixteen-years-old who had already gotten off once that evening.

He reached out for his brother's crotch again. This time Bro actually anticipated the move and held still so Dave could awkwardly tug at his zipper. Damn, why were pants so complicated when it was someone else wearing them?

Bro snorted and looked down on him with something that was awfully much like a half-grin if Dave wasn't so certain his Bro was too cool to do mediocre things like smiling. So it was… an ironic smile? Damn, he was losing track of his flow. He mused about asking Bro if he would help him out with learning how to keep his internal monologue jamming while getting his mack on later, but then any track of thought shattered and died from sick burns because Bro was reaching down and helping him undo his pants. He was also not wearing underwear.

The first thought that entered Dave's mind after a quick reboot was that he really should have seen that coming. The second was something in the direction of how uncomfortable having his hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans without the fabric of underwear to protect it from the sharp edges of the metal must have been. Then Bro was shimmying out of his pants and all Dave could think was yes, fuck yes, hell fucking yes. This shit was definitely better than pretending not to look when Bro came out of the bathroom in just a towel or changed in the middle of the living room -which also functioned as Bro's bedroom, so that wasn't an entirely rare occurrence.

Then Bro reached below the mattress and Dave caught the noise of crinkling plastic, and cute facade be damned, "You keep your condom stash below your mattress, Bro. Really? Seriously? This thing functions as our couch during the day you know."

"Shut up," Bro growled and threw something at Dave's head. Dave picked it up while Bro was busy wrestling with the foil around the condom. It was a tube of apple-scented lube. Real classy.

He watched Bro roll the condom on with a practiced movement, curbed a retort on how often Bro obviously did crap like this -more because it made him uncomfortable than because it would interfere with his acting because something told Dave that Bro didn't really intend to stop anymore at this point in time- and then swallowed as the older Strider got back on the bed and crawled over towards him.

While it might have been true this was his intention all along, and he admittedly wasn't as much of an anal virgin as Bro might think he was (Okay, so John had given him that dildo as a prank, who cared as long as it served some purpose, right?) he still had to swallow down some nerves as the sudden realness of the situation started to poke him in the gut.

Then Bro leaned in as if to kiss him, only to stop a hair's breadth away from his mouth and softly mutter, "Where doing this, kid."

Dave let out a short, huffed laugh, somewhat disoriented by the taste of his Bro's breath on his tongue and the general proximity but suddenly decidedly less nervous. This was Bro after all, and what was there to be nervous about when Bro knew all of his weaknesses anyways. "Where making this happen," he mumbled back and then they were kissing again except he was now being methodically divested of his stupid pyjamas.

Except not really because while Bro pulled them down his arms and halfway down his knees he didn't let up to let Dave kick them off completely and Dave told himself that next time he should just wear something two-piece because who was he to get in the way of Bro's kinks if all it took to get him riled up was wearing a hello-kitty shirt during sex?

He didn't feel particularly like the only sounds he could make were stupid moans, and he was quite certain he'd have no problem vocalising his distaste on how Bro was slowing down again but after some careful calculations Dave decided that if he couldn't oblige Bro's weird kiddy-theme fetish all the way through he could at least just try to act cute and settle for what was supposed to be a cute needy whine instead.

It sounded retarded enough for Dave to actually seriously contemplate rehearsing proper moaning noises later on but at least Bro seemed to get the hint and while the kissing part was still slow and sensual (and sort of sloppy, because having a homo-crush on his brother never really gave much opportunity for kissing practice, aside from that one stupid, disastrous evening with Egderp that should never ever be mentioned again) at least Bro's hand was actually down where he wanted it to be.

His other hand was busy fiddling around with something and, oh, the scent of factory-produced apple-scented things. Well, at least the memo not to go slow hadn't somehow gone completely over Bro's head.

He hissed when fingertips coated in something cold and slick -which didn't take a whole lot of guessing to identify- suddenly pressed against his ass and bit Bro's lips in retaliation. Bro was supposed to be the experienced one here, he should know that cold surprises near the genitals were just nasty, and that it was common courtesy to at least try and warm that shit up a little before doing anything with it. So maybe Dave had been the one to encourage the end of the slow parts, but that didn't mean he wanted to way too fast version either.

Bro pulled his fingers away slightly and mumbled something that could have been an apology but might just as well have been something about how he should toughen up or whatever but Dave didn't want to hear any of it and just fisted the hair at the back of Bro's head, making his cap fall off -he'd still been wearing that. Seriously. How had he still been wearing that?- and forcing their mouths back together. Kissing was nice, and he now finally figured out why people liked doing it so much during sex. Because it kept the other party from bitching and ruining the moment by being Ironic.

And then those fingers were back and he figured Bro was either just a complete asshole in bed or not as unaware of Dave's anal experimentation as he thought because there were two fingers in his ass a lot faster than chivalry and gallantry dictated they should. Muttered stream of curses cut off by their lip-lock, Dave concluded that both possibilities were equally likely.

Bro did slow down a little again, but it was becoming very apparent that Bro's sexual expertise was limited to two modi, which were 'slow and sensual', which Dave's sixteen-years-old male hormones were currently very much opposed to, and 'quicky', which was potentially a recipe for disaster. That, and it was just plain nasty of Bro to treat him the same way as some one-night-stand at a club.

So Dave summoned back the cute kid facade, pulled back and whimpered "Ouch Bro, that hurts!" while staring up at him with his best kicked puppy look -he'd seen John pull it enough when he refused to watch movies with him.

He managed to keep it up for about three seconds before he started giggling madly. The way Bro was hovering over him with a surprised look on his face and the fact that he still had two fingers up his ass just added to the blatant stupidity of the situation and that made stopping the giggles a tough challenge.

Then Bro frowned, gave him a flat look and curled up his fingers, missing that magical spot internet research told him about that he liked abusing when masturbating but still jarring enough nerve endings to make little shocks of pleasure run up his spine and Dave was sure he was going to choke because moaning and giggling and breathing at the same time just didn't work.

Bro's free hand was rubbing over his stomach, probably to calm him down. Of course Dave hadn't actually gotten any less ticklish in the past few minutes so the only thing it did for him was make him giggle even more so he was left to weakly push at Bro's chest while trying to get enough breath in his lungs to tell him to knock it the fuck off.

He managed to bat Bro's hands away, and the older Strider seemed to get the hint. He still didn't give him time to ride out his giggling fit though, instead opting to just continue wriggling his fingers around which felt both good and bizarre in a way that a static plastic dildo just couldn't compare to. Actually, Dave wasn't too certain he agreed with the idea of having something that moved around so much in his ass, if only because he remembered his conversation with John when he'd managed to pester his friend into researching gay sex with him ("Wait, so you're just supposed to dig around inside there with your fingers until you find what you're looking for? No wonder they call gay guys ass-pirates!").

Slowly his giggles were fading, replaced by some more situation-appropriate noises. He still didn't really feel the urge to moan loudly or keen or scream or something equally porn-style but he figured he could at least make some funny sounds in the back of his throat and pretend to be incoherent in appreciation of whatever it was that Bro was doing exactly.

And then Bro's fingers -all four of them, when had that happened?- found what they were looking for and while he didn't see stars or lose all cognitive functions for a moment that was most definitely nice. No, not just nice, awesome. Now only to get him to keep doing that.

Of course, by the power of cliché, Bro knew what he'd done and immediately pulled away. The asshole. Seriously, who did shit like that? The only place where that stuff should happen was in Rose's deeply emotional and story driven wizard stories. Sorry, did he think wizard stories? He meant wizard porn, of course.

But with Bro leaning over him like that there wasn't really any room for doubts as to why he'd pulled away and Dave found he suddenly couldn't bring himself to mind all that much anymore. There was still that nagging voice at the back of his head that reminded him that missionary wasn't exactly the best choice in first time anal sex but that thought was quickly shooshed because why did he have an internal Jade voice and why was it bothering him during sex? That was just wrong on all the levels. All of them.

Bro finally pulled Dave's pyjamas off all the way so he could hook his legs around his waist as well as pulling his own shirt off before haphazardly propping some of the pillows from Dave's long forgotten fluffy mountain beneath his hips and something told Dave he'd be grateful for that bit of thoughtfulness in the morning. Just a little.

He swallowed, trying to stop the nerves from acting back up because he knew it'd be bad if he'd tensed up too much -Egbert had very deliberately trolled him with a list of things that could go horribly wrong during anal when he went too far in making fun of one of his lame movies- but it was sort of hard all things considering. A lot of things were sort of hard, all things considering. And the fact that he wasn't even ashamed of that incredibly bad pun was saying something about the effect this shit was having on his thought process.

Dave had been half expecting Bro to continue on his asshole streak and just shove right on in because he'd prepared him already or some nightclub-frenzy fridge logic but instead the older Stirder decided to let his wicked stretch run by just going a slow as humanly possible, if not slower. That, or maybe he grew a conscience in a paradoxical parallel timeline and it was rubbing off on alpha Bro, or something equally stupid.

There was some vague urge running through Dave's mind to just buck and force Bro in deeper, but he was already breaking his cutekid facade plenty, and something told him being a needy whore would only help that go to horseshit faster. There was no such ban on sounding like a creepy japanese anime sub on steroids (because Dave just couldn't and wouldn't reach that pitch) though, so he decided this was the perfect time to kick his vocal chords in overdrive.

Apparently it was working, because no matter how stupid this sounded to his own ears, Bro was making an interesting face, sort of scrunched up like he was holding something back and his eyes were amusingly cloudy as he tried stare the younger Strider down with little success. Dave wriggled his ass experimentally and Bro closed his eyes, made a strangled noise and bucked his hips.

"Fuck lil' dude, stop squirming. I'm almost in all the way," Bro grunted, sounding significantly out of it and Dave was so very tempted to react to the bad gay-porn-cliche line but then Bro was all the way in and there was only the overwhelming urge to punch the older Strider because he stopped. Again. In fact Dave was quire sure he would punch and scream, if he wasn't so certain screaming 'my dildo is bigger than you fuckass, just move already' in Bro's face would not provide the desired results.

Instead he settled with a forced "move already!" with as much deliberately faked whine laced through as he could muster with Bro's cock up his ass. Which was decidedly getting tougher to manage because apparently sounding like a moron whose balls hadn't dropped yet required more concentration than he'd initially thought and it was a lot easier to lose track of wherever the hell his own brain went when it was something organic up there than when it was self-handled neon-green plastic.

Bro made another one of those funny squeaky noises that went and took the first blood-fuelled train to the crown-jewels and Dave could almost convince himself that it was just Bro being deliberately ironic except the faces the older Strider was making sort of gave away how out of it and into Dave -ehehehe, his inner John voice interjected- he was. It was actually sort of really not cool, and anything that might or might not have been added to that internal monologue was replaced by a _finally_ when Bro decided it was time to stop being a slacker and get the hot, sweaty Stridercest the fuck back on track.

This made thinking take several levels in toughness, but Dave couldn't really say he minded because he most definitely didn't, even if Bro's aim was complete crap.

If he were one of the (very well developed) characters in Rose's (crop of the proverbial cream) explicit wizard-sex scenes -gods, that joke never got old-, he'd be keening and writhing and going on about how his partner just had to hit that one special spot all the time, without fail. It would also all be over in three or four paragraphs, because Rose was a sixteen-years-old virgin and a lesbian, and writing about genitals she didn't understand was hard. Or she could just be embarrassed, it was hard to tell sometimes.

Bro was still moving torturously slow, and looking down at him with that stupid half-concerned look that was somehow a million and fifty-twelve times worse when he didn't have his ironic anime shades to hide his face. Dave congratulated himself on knowing that without their glasses between them it seemed he was actually the one with the better poker-face. Because small victories still counted when they happened between him and a guy who liked ambushing people with puppet-rump avalanches and rooftop strifes, even if they were victories happening during activities that should have been making thinking about this irrelevant stuff a lot lower a priority than Dave's mind tricked itself into thinking it was according to how hard he was thinking about this.

Something needed to be done to shoot this shit into the next gear, preferably before he went drooling tangerine on the world. That would be a tragic loss.

Maybe it was to ground himself from wandering down the mental lanes of completely irrelevant and get swept into the parading crowds of ironic bullshit and what-the-hell-faced idiocies, maybe it was just to spite the fuck out of Bro but once the urge to spurn this fuckhorse into galloping for all it was worth -more than a one-dollar hooker at the very least- got into his head it hung there, clawing into his brain-controls like a glorified button-push-monkey.

So Dave let his nails rake down Bro's back hard enough that it had to hurt, because there might never be a more beautiful opportunity to get back at Bro for all those stupid shitty sword scars he had all over and then he clenched his ass which was pretty much the most stupid sounding thing he'd done all evening -which said a lot, all things considering- but the bizarre sort of tortured moan Bro let out just made it so very fucking worth it. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to be giving anyone any prose recaps of his evening anyways.

Dave squeezed again, and once more Bro was making one of those really funny noises, this time on a more audible scale. Welp. Who would have thought that the noisy one in this equation was going to be Bro? And more importantly, would or wouldn't this information be useful in the nifty art of blackmail?

Bro apparently decided that being a pain in the butt alone wasn't enough retaliation for the stunts Dave was pulling and latched on the side of his neck like some greatly exaggerated tick with a biting fetish and Dave had always sort of figured nape-necking was more of the visually appealing porn brand but hey, that did actually feel sort of nice, especially since Bro was finally getting his ass in gear and upping the ante in their little bedroom foxtrot.

It was becoming decidedly harder to remember why he was supposed to be cranking out mewls and whines like a porn-actor on pay-day with the constant stimulation everywhere, although Bro's current nipple-plucking campaign was actually helping Dave keep his mind clear because that just felt stupid. Somewhere in between forging some nice vocal symphonies of wild man-love and batting Bro's hands away from his chest -getting in another giggling fit because he was ticklish would just be lame, and he'd have to kick Bro in the balls if he made him- Dave decided to screw the audio track and just enjoy the ride and postpone thinking of an explanation as to why he suddenly went little mermaid during the bouncy bed game to sometime when coherency wasn't so much of a no-can-do.

The arm -or rather, elbow- that Bro wasn't using to keep himself from crushing Dave into an ironic little-brother-pancake crept beneath Dave's shoulders and pulled the smaller Strider flushed against him so they were naked sweaty chest against naked sweaty chest and Dave took a moment to appreciate his brother's lovely cultivated anatomy before Bro finally hit the jackpot. Snarls were probably not the consensus of appreciative noises so he shouldn't really have been surprised when Bro paused to give him a look that was probably supposed to convey worry or some shit like that but none of this was improving the general opinion of the evening. Namely, Bro was an asshole with a knack for stopping at inopportune moments.

Sadly while Dave's inner monologue didn't have any trouble thinking up colourful and creative incentive threats to tell Bro to get his groove the fuck back on it was also very quick to remind him that what he wanted here was progression, not a one way trip to the most awkward inter-sibling discussion ever so he forced himself to swallow back any unnecessary words and just buck his hips, hoping that having his achingly hard dick press up against Bro's stomach would convey the message.

Luckily it seemed to drive the picture home-base and Bro picked his pace back up. Like the DJ he was, his rhythms and beat were perfect and Dave amused himself momentarily by thinking up situation-appropriate bad porno lines involving cheesy elements like being played like Bro's turntables before Bro once again brushed his white-out button and his world went from fuck that feels nice to goddamn don't ever stop or I'll stab you.

In between tacky manly grunts and other noises supposedly made at least partially to convey ironic mangrit Bro was starting to let out little hissing noises and Dave slowly started to realise he was digging his fingernails into Bro's back a lot harder than was likely to be comfortable. Before he could let his mind wander off far enough to accurately remember when he's last declawed himself however, the older Strider thrust back in with considerably more force than he'd been using before and very deliberately aimed and hit and fuck it, who needed an internal monologue anyways.

From that point on mental coherency was the last thing on Dave's mind as his virginity casually dwindled from 'oh god, my ass' to 'virginity, what virginity?' and the pressure of orgasm started building faster than what was probably considered cool. At least it wasn't three paragraphs, he consoled himself.

The difference in experience and stamina was also starting to show as Bro wasn't really showing any symptoms of the end-sprint of getting off yet, though that could also be some fucked up Strider-pokerface mentality rearing it's plush-rump at an ironically random time, and Dave's body was very rapidly starting to get sore from the unusual position and hard things in unnatural places. Rose had casually teased him about morning after's when taking it up the ass (or the vagina, she'd said but it wasn't like he gave two shits about those things) but he'd never really realised that the less nice bits might not be the polite kind that waited until after the orgasm until coming around kicking the door in.

Not that it mattered a whole lot because the good bits about this whole gay sex thing were definitely outweighing the bad and if he played his cards right the bad would have Bro pamper him the morning after, something he'd only had happening to him whenever he had a bad flu or something, and it would be lovely to be fussed over without having to puke all over himself to get the attention.

His own snarly noises were getting more impatient and he suddenly got the unstoppable urge to bite Bro's shoulder. There wasn't really any reason Dave could think of not to do it either, although he might or might not have felt a little guilty when Bro started and gave him a warning squeeze in the back of his neck. Apparently biting was a not nice stamp on the Strider sexytimes punchcard.

And then the world started to snow black and white around the edges and Dave opted for admiring the interesting visual effect instead of giving Bro the porno-cliche warnings because his body-language had probably given him away anyways and wow, were those imaginary fireworks?

And then he was coming and snarling like some rabid animal and he was definitely going to be making fun of himself later because that had to be the most interesting sound he'd ever made. Bro's movements didn't stop. If anything, they grew more frantic and less rhythmic in the grasp of Dave's spasming muscles and the stimulation of those nerves had been lovely before but now they were just sensitive and way too much and Dave kind of wished Bro would get off already because this was getting a bit too hot to handle and he would sort of like it if he could get out of this with his mind functioning thank you very much.

Bro pulled out, and on one hand Dave felt just a bit betrayed by the knowledge that he didn't come but on the other hand he was just worn out because who the fuck knew sex was so taxing and how the hell did people go at it all the time. Didn't mean he couldn't watch Bro work himself to completion of course because damn, that was one fine view of one fine piece of hot man-sausage.

After shooting his load, Bro rolled off the condom almost mechanically and tossed it into the garbage bin with a precise aim that could probably be considered ironic before rummaging around below the futon some more and fishing out a my little pony themed box of -surprise surprise- tissues to clean them both off with. Dave would comment on the preparedness of it all despite Bro never bringing his one-nighters home with him but that would require breaking the lazy, relaxed post-awesome-sex atmosphere and that didn't seem appealing at all.

When he was done, Bro just dropped the box on the ground and fished a blanket and some pillows from Dave's discarded pile that had fallen to the floor somewhere during their little adult adventure to drape over them after he crawled back onto the futon.

"You should wear footie pj's more often," Bro told Dave dryly as he looped his arms around his little brother and pulled him close so he could bury his nose in his neck.

"Fuck Bro," Dave said languidly, "I'll wear frilly fucking dresses if it gets you to do that again."

He really should have known Bro would keep him to that.


End file.
